


Ghost of You - safe haven newtmas

by ava_kay



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, Ghost Newt, Haunting, M/M, Post Death Cure, Post-Canon Fix-It, Safe Haven, The Death Cure, ghost - Freeform, minho is important, newtmas - Freeform, newtmas angst, newtmas oneshot, newtmas safe haven, post tdc, side thominho, slight cuddling occurs, they may or may not kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_kay/pseuds/ava_kay
Summary: takes place after the events of The Death Cure movie—Losing Newt was too much for Thomas to bear, but what if he doesn't have to let go quite yet?—“I just keep seeing your face looking down at me and—” Thomas stops himself. “No. No, no, you’re here.”“I am,” Newt says, getting serious. “You’re okay.”“And I thought your letter was the last pep talk,” Thomas lets out a small laugh. “I should have known they’d never stop.”“It’s your fault for being such a bloody mess all the time,” Newt jokes.





	Ghost of You - safe haven newtmas

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: strong mentions of not eating, death, and a brief mention of Newt's attempt.
> 
> PLAYLIST (in no particular order):  
> Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars  
> Look After You by The Fray  
> The Night We Met by Lord Huron  
> I Found by Amber Run  
> Flares by The Script  
> In My Veins by Andrew Belle  
> You Were Never Gone by Hannah Ellis  
> Wish That You Were Here by Florence + The Machine  
> A Thousand Years by Christina Perri  
> Already Gone by Sleeping At Last  
> Sign of the Times by Harry Styles

Newt runs his hand over his name on the stone. It almost makes him want to laugh, and almost makes him want to cry. It’s so… final.

   He walks away from the area and hops onto the dirt. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest with his limp being gone, and he’s suddenly almost thankful nobody can see him as he starts half-jogging over to the huts. He knows exactly where he’s going, and knows the act of walking there makes no logical sense, but he chooses to do it anyway. After all, he hasn’t got time to worry about, does he?

   “Thomas, Vince  _asked_ me to tell you. This isn’t just me—”

   “Really, Minho? Because ‘I can’t stand watching this’ sounds a _lot_ like you,” Thomas snaps halfheartedly, Newt feeling a wave of pain at his words.

   Minho just looks at Thomas for a moment before shaking his head. “Listen, man. I’m not gonna force the shuck papers out of your hands and tuck you in. I just came over here to ask.” 

   Thomas’ expression softens. “Thank you, Minho. Really. But you have to let me…”

   Newt feels the urge to walk over and put a hand on each of them; tell Thomas to listen and hug it out. 

   “I know,” Minho says. He looks at Thomas a moment longer before starting to walk away, stopping at the door. “I miss them, too.”

   Thomas watches Minho walk out, Newt hating the look on his face after as he stares down at the ground in front of him. That bloody pout Newt knows all too well.

   “ _Hey, Tommy,_ ” the words come out milky and far away, sounding like a whisper in a hurricane to him. He’s still not used to the sound, and knows it’s lost on anyone but him, but he’s not ready to give up. Newt sits on the bed in front of Thomas and wills him to just look up, already. “ _Come on. You’re the only reason I’m here in the first place, least you can do is talk._ ”

   Thomas finally looks up and straight at Newt’s abdomen, Newt chuckling at the odd hilarity of the situation.

   “ _Eyes are up here, remember?_ ” Newt jokes. He wants to observe Thomas a little while longer, but he can’t stand watching him like this.

   Getting up, he walks so he’s standing directly in front of Thomas. The necklace,  _Newt’s_ necklace, is hanging down around his neck. Newt hadn’t expected him to wear it. He’d actually been worried he wouldn’t even find the letter inside. But he knows Thomas. Always looking deeper.

   Crouching down, he touches it, almost feeling the object but not even attempting to move it. Then, he positions himself to be looking right at Thomas, and Thomas at him.

   “ _You should see me now, Tommy_.” Newt puts his hand on Thomas’ shoulder and focuses all of his energy onto it, trying to direct his words and his thoughts all into the seemingly non-existent touch. “ _No veins, no black stuff, no coughing, no blood, no_ limp. _I’m as beautiful as the day I was born._ ”

   Thomas’ expression changes, encouraging Newt to focus harder.

   “ _Take a buggin’ break. You made it. It’s time to relax_.” Newt tries to deliver the message calmly but it comes out as more of a rushed plea. He stares deeply into Thomas’ eyes now, trying to make his way _past_ them, somewhere far deeper.

   With all of his energy being put into one area, he almost doesn’t notice it when Thomas starts tearing up. Almost. 

   It catches Newt off guard for a moment. The most he’s gotten is an uncomfortable shift in his chair, or an odd look around the room before getting back to his work. But this feels different—stronger. Is it finally working?

   Thomas tenses up and Newt watches his jaw harden, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. 

   “ _It’s me, Tommy. It’s me,_ ” Newt practically yells, trying to channel his excitement at the reaction into his touch, the material of Thomas’ shirt feeling more and more real to him by the second.

   With all the might Newt has left in him, he gives one last burst of effort, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder. “ _Please_.” 

   Thomas breathes in sharply, sitting straight and making Newt force his hand away. The lack of steadiness makes Newt fall to the ground, his vision getting wavy. _Not now, not now._

   He forces himself to keep conscious as Thomas stands up suddenly.

   Newt thinks he’s imagining it when Thomas slowly reaches a hand up to his shoulder. It can’t be, he  _couldn’t_ have felt it.

   Thomas shakes his head, Newt seeing a tear fall from his face. He keeps doing that, just shaking his head until he leans on the back of his chair, his head hanging down and a sob escaping him.

   Newt wants to get up, tell him he’s there, that he’s going to be okay, but every bit of strength has been used up. “ _It’s okay,_ ” Newt says weakly.

   The words are followed by Thomas looking up, his body shaking from his crying. If Newt still has any sort of heart, it breaks at the sight. He has to help, he  _needs_ to. Thomas needs to know he’s there, that he’s watching him. He didn’t leave him.

   Thomas takes a shaky breath and looks down at his bed, his hand coming up and grabbing at the necklace. Newt watches him rub his thumb over it, before squeezing it hard, closing his eyes.

   Weaker, weaker, weaker. 

   Finally Thomas walks over to the bed, past Newt, and sits down. Newt can feel himself slipping, but struggles to keep watching.

   He only lets go when he sees Thomas rest his head on the pillow.

  
  


It’s another three days or so before Newt comes back. This time it’s night, everyone’s faces glowing orange from the bright fire as they laugh and talk and enjoy each other’s company. It reminds him of the glade bonfires, those days feeling like a million years ago now.

   He doesn’t bother searching for Thomas’ face among the crowd, because he knows he’s not there. Just like the times before, his legs carry him to where he needs to go, past the large crowd. 

   It doesn’t surprise him when he finds the boy sitting alone on a low ledge, looking out to everyone else. It also doesn’t surprise him when he sees him gripping the necklace tightly. 

   Newt gives him a smile, before climbing up and sitting next to him, trying to ignore the pain of Thomas not knowing he’s there.

   “ _You rang?_ ” Newt laughs, looking at Thomas’ face. He seems zoned out, lost in thought, but concerned. “ _You’re safe now, Tommy. Go play with the others._ ” 

   Thomas’ hand drops to his lap, and he looks up to the stars, Newt glancing up quickly as well before back to the other boy.

   Newt notices his other hand leaning on the wood beneath them, and hesitates. There’s no logic behind his hesitation, seeing as Thomas won’t even  _f_ _eel_ it, but touching his hand seems…

   He waves the doubt away from his mind and puts his hand on top of Thomas’ wrapping his fingers around it as best he can while it’s pressed against the surface. It sends a feeling of comfort through him, making him squeeze it lightly.

   “You would have liked this, Newt,” Thomas softly says to the sky, surprising Newt.

   Squeezing Thomas’ hand a little harder, desperate to really feel his skin and have Thomas feel him in return, Newt responds. “ _I do, I’m right bloody here_.”

   “You should see it, Gally even makes that drink you liked so much. The one glade bonfire I went to, I was too confused, too new. So when you spoke—” Thomas cuts himself off, scoffing humorlessly and shaking his head.

   “ _I can hear you, shank_.” Newt’s frustration at the situation fuels him enough to hold Thomas’ hand tighter, hoping against hope that Thomas will hold his back.

   “I wanted you back here, y’know?” Thomas says, his voice breaking.

   “ _It worked_ ,” Newt says, sighing and directing the anger and irrational part of him that believes he might feel it into his hand.

   “I’m so sorry,” Thomas now whispers.

   “ _Don’t apologize, just_ see  _me_ ,” Newt says, starting to feel the warmth Thomas’ skin beneath his fingertips as his energy pours into it. “ _Feel me here_.”

   Newt is just as surprised—if not more—than Thomas when he feels his fingers wrap around Thomas’ hand, lifting it from the ground.

   The pain and hurt he feels when Thomas’ hand flies back is indescribable. It’s hard enough struggling to stay there when he’s just given so much of himself to just trying to touch Thomas’ _hand_ , but the second it works, that he finally feels him, it’s taken away?

   It passes quickly though, not being able to blame Thomas, before it dissolves into hope and shock. He felt it, he felt _Newt_.

   Thomas looks down at his hand and then the spot where it just was, Newt searching his face. He looks shocked and fearful, his breath hitching as his eyes travel back and forth between the two things, then behind him.

   “ _I’m right here, I’m_ here _,_ ” Newt pleas, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Thomas’ again, trying to get back the feeling back that he’s actually  _touching_ him.

   Thomas’s gaze shifts to Newt’s lips, making him send a startled wave of energy to Thomas’ hand. When Newt leans forward a little so that he’s staring into Thomas’ eyes, he can see his expression change to something else. A broken disbelief.

    “ _Don’t lose me now,_ ” Newt says, keeping his eyes trained on Thomas’ and focusing as much as he can on his hand without using _too_ much, not wanting to disappear on him again.

   When he starts to feel Thomas’ hand again, encouraging him to keep going, Thomas doesn’t move away.

    “ _Stay with me, stay with me,_ ” Newt says hurriedly, feeling something spark inside him when his thumb gains feeling. It’s everything to him, his eyes widening as he rubs his thumb against Thomas’ skin.

   Thomas suddenly stares down to his hand, his chest moving up and down rapidly before he puts his own thumb on top of Newt’s pointer finger, moving right through it. Newt presses his thumb harder, Thomas jumping a little.

   He doesn’t think about the fact that he’s just about depleted of his energy when he squeezes Thomas’ hand with every emotion he has being thrown into it.

   “ _Tommy,_ _look at me,_ ” Newt yells, trying to direct his voice to Thomas, to Thomas’ mind, to anything he can reach.

   Thomas looks up once again, but this time there’s a difference. He looks directly into Newt’s eyes.

   The both of their eyes widen. 

   And Newt is gone.

  
  


When Newt shows up two days later, he runs, not wanting to waste any time. Everyone is busy around him. Building, gathering, talking, eating. But he doesn’t take the time to look at them today. No, today he needs to see Thomas.

   The first few times he’d come there, he’d stayed for a while. Sat down and observed the conversations, stood in the water, watched his friends from across the room, smiled at their progress. But after a while, he noticed something.

   Every time he randomly appeared, he was drawn to Thomas. And another pattern he’d noticed was the necklace. Any time Newt has come to him without having to find him first, he’s touching the necklace. So Newt figured eventually that his visits were Thomas’ doing.

   That’s when he started trying to contact him. Talking to him, trying to touch his arm, anything. Every time he tries it gets a little easier, and now, if he’s right, he might have finally not only been felt, but _seen_. 

   When Newt finds Thomas, he’s sitting with Minho, Brenda, Fry, and Gally at a round table in the otherwise empty hut, looking more than off. There are bags under his eyes and an untouched plate of food in front of him, but he looks more awake than ever, looking at his friends.

   The rest of them look concerned, their gazes switching between Thomas and each other.

   “Don’t do that,” Thomas says, shaking his head. “You don’t understand, you didn’t see.” 

   “Thomas…” Brenda trails off, her expression a mix of sadness and pity.

   “I’m not crazy,” Thomas says.

   Newt sits beside Thomas, being able to because everyone else is more grouped together, leaving Thomas mostly isolated on his side.

   “Nobody said that,” Minho says. “But, man… if  _I_ told you this, would you not question me?”

   Thomas’ jaw hardens as he looks at them. “So you don’t believe me?” 

   “All I know is that you look like you haven’t slept in a week, and that you miss him,” Minho says softly. “You’re smart, Thomas. You know you’d be thinking the same thing.” 

   Thomas scoffs. “Great. Thanks,” he says, going to get up. 

   “Thomas, hold on,” Gally chimes in, the rest of the group looking at him surprised. Clearly Thomas shares the same reaction, because he stays, looking up. “After the maze, I thought I saw Chuck everywhere. I thought that maybe if I lived, he did too. It nearly drove me insane.”

   Thomas seems to consider this for a second, making Newt upset. He’s not crazy. Newt’s _there_. 

   “Did he touch your hand?” Thomas asks, relief flooding through Newt. He’s not giving up.

   Gally just looks at him, all of them sharing the same worried expression.

    “Okay, man,” Fry says, nodding. “Say you _did_ see Newt. What now?”

   Thomas looks thrown off by someone actually giving him the time of day, stuttering. “I—I don’t know. I just… haven’t been able to shake this feeling I get. Like he’s still here.”

   “Like when?” Brenda asks.

   “It’s always there, but sometimes it gets so strong, it’s like… it feels like he’s standing right in front of me. And then sometimes I feel this weird pressure, then it’s gone,” Thomas says. 

   “Is it happening now?” Minho asks.

   This is Newt’s cue. 

   “ _You’re not crazy. It’s me,_ ” Newt says, going for Thomas’ hand again, which is resting on the table. This time he focuses all of his energy into his thumb, hoping only using a small part of him will help him not get so drained so quick. If it worked last time, it should work now.

   Newt isn’t sure if Thomas can genuinely feel it or if he does it by chance, but he seems to relax himself, staying still and closing his eyes. If he’s looking for a sign from Newt, now’s the time.

   “ _Come on, Tommy. I’m here_ ,” Newt says, rubbing his thumb in circles on the other boy’s hand, putting all his thought and hope into it. He channels everything. How desperate he is, how much he misses being there— _really_ being there.

   In a worried burst of energy, Newt presses harder, finally feeling Thomas’ skin. He smiles, looking up from Thomas’ hand and to his face to find him smiling down.

   “ _Everything’s okay_ ,” Newt finds himself saying, trying to send it to Thomas somehow. “ _Look at me._ ” 

   Thomas looks to his left first, but then switches to look at his right, right through Newt. He moves his head to be looking into Thomas’ eyes again, pressing harder.

   The both of them stay there this time, smiling. Newt feels weak, but he doesn’t care, knowing it’s working. He can tell Thomas doesn’t _see_ him, but he knows he feels him, and that’s enough for right now.

   “He’s here,” Thomas says, not looking away, the smile still plastered on.

   “How do you know?” Minho asks. 

   “I feel him,” Thomas says.

   Newt doesn’t want to break their connection, still holding Thomas’ hand in his, but he feels himself getting weaker by the second.

   “How?” Brenda asks.

   “I feel him here, next to me. There’s this little spot on my hand, and it feels like he’s… touching it somehow. I can’t explain it,” Thomas says.

   “ _I could kiss you right now, Tommy_ ,” Newt laughs, not being able to believe what he’s hearing. “ _Wonder how that’d work. If you could hear me, you’d be laughing._ ” 

   “Is it still… is he still there?” Gally asks. Thomas nods. 

   “I can feel when he’s gone,” Thomas says. “It doesn’t last long.”

   “ _Not long enough, I can barely get a bloody thing done,_ ” Newt says. 

   “Newt,” Thomas starts. Newt nods, knowing Thomas can’t see but trying anyway. Thomas is about to _talk_ to him. “If you’re really here, I just—”

  
  


It’s a day later when Newt shows up, running again immediately. That was unfair, that was _so_ unfair. He was about to talk to Newt, he was about to actually give him a message, and he disappeared on him.

   He finds Thomas in his hut, sitting on his bed, wearing his form of pajamas, a t-shirt and loose sweatpants. It seems late in the day, around six, but he looks like he hasn’t gotten up yet. On his desk there’s two trays of uneaten food, and Vince is sitting at his chair, facing Thomas.

   Thomas looks like a wreck. Bloodshot eyes, red nose, bedhead hair, and a death grip on Newt’s necklace. Through everything they went through with WCKD, he’s never seen Thomas like this.

   “How much did you sleep last night?” Vince asks.

   “Enough,” Thomas says, giving him a hard stare.

   “Are you sure about that?” Vince asks. “What about eating?”

   “I told you, I’m not hungry,” Thomas says.

   “ _Tommy, I’m here, remember? What’s wrong?_ ” Newt asks, sitting down beside Thomas on the bed.

   “Thomas I know you went through a lot. We all have. Have you spoken to anyone?” Vince asks. 

   “About what? Newt? Nobody believes me,” Thomas says.

   “No, about what you’re feeling. It’s important to talk,” Vince says. 

   “There’s nothing to talk about,” Thomas says.

   “What about the last seventeen years of your life?” Vince asks.

   “Listen, I know you mean well, but I’m fine. I know everyone thinks I’m insane, but I’m fine. I’ll get back to work tomorrow, okay?” Thomas dismisses him.

   Newt puts his hand on Thomas’ lower thigh right above his knee, that being the first place he finds. Immediately after, he feels awkward, wondering why that’s where he chose, and hopes Thomas doesn’t care. 

   “Thomas—”

   Thomas suddenly sits up, looking to his left where Newt is sitting, then back at Vince.

   “Yeah, yeah, thank you, could you give me some privacy?” Thomas rushes his words, a smile forming on his lips.

   Vince hesitates, furrowing his eyebrows in concern, but eventually gets up and sighs. “Alright… just—just come to me if you need something, okay?”

   “Sure,” Thomas says. Vince gives him one last look before finally leaving, Newt using the opportunity to press harder onto Thomas’ leg.

   He only focuses his energy into a small bit of his hand, trying to distribute it best he can, the effort of that alone being a lot for him. But today, he has to be careful with how much of this he does.

   Because today, he’s going to try to get Thomas to hear him. 

   He’d gone over it a few times in his mind. What will be the first thing he tries? It has to be something short, and something that will let him know who it is. Only one thing makes sense. His last word to him should be his new first, shouldn’t it? 

   “ _Tommy,_ ” Newt tries to direct it into Thomas’s brain somehow, as well as through his hand to him. Anywhere he can, he throws the word to him. “ _Tommy_.” 

   “Newt, are you there? Is that you?” Thomas says softly, staring down at his leg with a smile.

   “ _Tommy._ ” Newt persists, repeating the word desperately, causing him to press into his leg harder, feeling it now. _It’s me, I’m here_. 

   “Newt, if that’s you… if I’m not crazy, I need to know,” Thomas says.

   “ _Tommy_ ,” Newt says loudly, willing Thomas to look at him, hear him. “ _Tommy_.”

   “I felt you yesterday. When you left, I felt it. Even before the bonfire, I’d felt it. I thought I was imagining things until I _saw_ you,” Thomas says. 

   “ _Tommy_.”

   “I’m not giving up on you, Newt. I’m not. I just wish I’d…” Thomas trails off.

   “ _Tommy_.”

   “I miss you. I miss your face, I miss your voice. I miss the way you could take any bad situation and make sense of it for me.”

   “ _Tommy_.”

   “I miss the little things, too. Like when you’d be woken up and get all grumpy for an hour til I’d find a way to make you smile, even if you didn’t want to. Or like when you’d be thinking and you’d get this little pout. And how funny you were, even when you didn’t mean to be,” Thomas continues, starting to cry now.

   “ _Tommy_ ,” Newt feels pain well up inside him, using it to project his voice.

   “I _feel_ all of that, I can _feel_ that it’s missing. You should be here, you deserve it more than I do,” Thomas says. _That’s not true_.

   “ _Tommy_ ,” Newt yells.

   Thomas jumps, and Newt realizes he’d just squeezed his leg with all of his strength. He must of hurt him, he must have— 

   “Newt? Newt, I—was that you? Am I hearing things now?” Thomas asks, putting his own hand on his leg where Newt’s had been a moment earlier. 

   “ _Tommy_ ,” Newt repeats it, so happy he could cry.

   Thomas blinks, shaking his head. “This… I can’t believe this,” he breathes, relaxing himself again.

   “You’re here? Next to me?” Thomas asks. 

   “ _Yes_ ,” Newt says, hoping the simple word will work.

   Tears are pouring down Thomas’ face steadily, but it’s a different kind of crying now.

   “How much time do you have? A lot?” Thomas asks quickly and desperately.

   Newt hadn’t realized how weak he feels until just now, having been distracted by the breakthrough. There’s so much he wants— _needs_ to tell Tommy. So much he’d never gotten to say, so much he needs to know.

   “ _No_ ,” Newt chokes out the word, trying to throw it to Thomas like he had the last time.

   “Okay, okay,” Thomas rushes, breathing heavily and looking through Newt. “Can you touch my hand?”

   Thomas holds up his hand in front of him, and Newt almost smiles at the gesture. He puts his hand against Thomas’ trying to focus on it. It doesn’t take him long to feel Thomas’ skin, and Thomas closes his eyes, breathing out.

   “I miss you so much,” Thomas says, his speech coming close to a sob now.

   “ _I’m here_ ,” Newt says softly, _feeling_ it get to Thomas this time.

   Thomas nods, letting out a cross between a cry and a laugh. 

   “I have so much to say.”

   Newt is gone again as quick as he came, the words never being able to escape him. _I’m sorry._

  
  


Newt appears the next day and is surprised to find Thomas sitting right up against the monolith, necklace in hand. He doesn’t seem to look much better than yesterday, his face puffy and red. 

   Taking a step toward him, only a foot away, Newt suddenly feels wrong, like every bit of strength is being sucked out of him. When his foot hits the ground, something incredible happens.

   He _hears_ it.

   Thomas looks up suddenly, and their eyes meet— _actually_ meet. His mouth opens slightly and Newt searches his face, desperately trying to figure out what to do now. 

   “Ne—”

   “To—”

  
  


This time Thomas is lying on his bed. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s been maybe a day and a half since Newt was there last. It surprises Newt to find him speaking, having to double-check that there’s nobody else in the room.

   “I just can’t stand that nobody believes me. You’re _here_. I saw you. I feel you. I heard you. After everything, why would I make this up?” Thomas says. “I know what I’m talking about. Grief can’t make you _that_ insane.”

   “ _I can’t lie and say you’re the most sane person I’ve ever met, but this time you’re right_ ,” Newt jokes. He walks over and sits beside Thomas on his bed, sighing. The only thing as frustrating as not being seen or heard most of the time is the fact that he’s got no idea why he’s here in the first place.

   There was no light, none of his old friends greeting him and bringing him into their arms. No, none of that. There was nothing, until he’d arrived at the safe haven. Time has been the strangest phenomenon of them all, being aware of it and how much time is passing, but not knowing how. When he disappears from the safe haven, he has no clue what happens. All he knows is that he’s there, he’s gone, and then he’s back again.

   “If you’re here right now, could you give me some kind of sign? Like the other times?” Thomas asks. After a moment he lets out a humorless laugh. “It feels ridiculous saying that.”

   Newt watches Thomas sit up a bit and hold his hand out, palm up. He doesn’t hesitate, putting his thumb in the center of Thomas’ hand, not wanting to waste any time and pressing as much as he can.

   “ _C’mon, Tommy_ ,” Newt directs it to him, hoping to get the message across as quick as he can. 

   It takes a moment of concentration, but finally he sees recognition cross Thomas’ face, Newt finally _feeling_ Thomas. He only keeps it there for a few seconds, before pulling away. Today he’s testing a theory; if he only uses a bit of his energy and then stops, can he build it back up?

   “Okay, I’m taking that as a yes. I still kinda… sense you here. Even if you can’t answer, I’m just gonna talk, if that’s okay,” Thomas says.

   Newt laughs at his awkward delivery. “' _Course it’s okay. Besides, I don’t have much of a choice, do I_?”

   Suddenly Thomas laughs, genuinely this time. “Did you just laugh at me? I felt it, like this wave of something. Whatever it was, it felt like you. Back in the glade, back at the bonfire.”

   Newt doesn’t feel much like laughing anymore, watching the look that flashes over Thomas’ face at his last words. 

   “I think about that night a lot. The way you spoke to me like you knew me. The whole time I was there, you made me feel like less of an outsider. You’d probably— _you_ probably are making fun of me for the sappy speech, but I don’t care,” Thomas says with a nervous laugh, staring down at his hands.

   “ _I should be_ ,” Newt says. “ _But it’s too bloody depressing when you sound like this_.”

   “I’ve been thinking about all of it. Playing it all over in my head. The glade, escaping the maze, the scorch, finding Minho. Then that night—” Thomas stops his words. “And the letter. That one last peptalk you left for me. It both helps me and haunts me.”

   “ _More than you think_ ,” Newt says.

   “I can’t read it without crying. Thinking about you writing it, having to carry that with you for all that time, and the fact that I could have saved you,” Thomas takes a deep breath, looking to the ceiling, Newt noticing the tears welling up in his eyes.

   “ _You couldn’t have known_ ,” Newt says softly, wishing Thomas could hear.

   “You’re probably telling me I couldn’t have. But that’s not true,” Thomas shakes his head. “I should have realized that Brenda being okay wasn’t normal. I should have given myself up to them as soon as you told me you’d caught it. They would have let Minho and the rest of the Immunes go, and I would have cured you. Teresa might be alive too.”

   Newt was shocked when he’d seen Teresa’s name on the rock by his. He doesn’t know what happened to her, but it saddens him. He hadn’t been on the best of terms with her, sure, but ultimately they were all stuck in impossible situations, and she sure didn’t deserve to die. 

   But Thomas’ comment about wishing he’d given himself up to WCKD, the people they’d dedicated all of what they could remember of their lives trying to run from or take down, strikes a chord with Newt. In the painful moments before he’d slipped away from being himself and succumbed to the virus eating at him, he’d heard Teresa’s plea for Thomas to come back. It pushed him to the edge, the idea of Thomas giving himself up. He knew—knows?—Thomas too well to think he wasn’t considering it. 

   “ _I don’t care about the cure, I care about you. Even if you’d done that, I would have hated it. They need you, I needed you_ ,” Newt says, willing for it to reach Thomas somehow. “ _I still do_.” 

   “I failed you. I failed you, I failed Teresa, I failed Chuck, Alby, Winston, everyone we lost,” Thomas says, his voice breaking.

   “ _We died to get you here, and it worked, didn’t it_?” Newt says. 

   “I don’t know how long you have here. Right now _or_ in general. But as for right now…” Thomas trails off. “Could you just stay with me? I can feel when you’re here, but when I can’t, all I’m doing is waiting for the feeling to come back.”

   Newt looks at Thomas’ desk. More uneaten food. Piles of unorganized papers. It hurts him to see, and it hurts even worse knowing he caused it. The flare, that stupid virus, caused it.

   “ _Sure, Tommy_ ,” Newt tries to send the feeling to him, and Thomas seems to relax.

   “I don’t know if you sleep. I don’t even know what this _is_ but,” Thomas says, “if you do, you can just lay with me if you want. I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.”

   Newt smiles at this, nodding his head. For some reason the concept seems more appealing to him than anything has for a long time. He’s always felt comfortable with Thomas, not sure if it has anything to do with their lives before the maze. Either way, it’s always been there, and now seeing this side of him makes him feel even closer somehow. _Some good it does now_.

   Thomas moves over so that he’s leaning against the wall, leaving the spot beside him open. _Newt’s_ spot. He takes it, feeling the strange paradox of being there yet not feeling anything or having any effect on anything around him wash over him. Even though he can’t physically feel Thomas beside him, shoulder to shoulder, he can see and sense it.

   “I know you’re next to me,” Thomas says, looking up, Newt watching the tears from before appear in his eyes again.

   “ _Good_ ,” Newt says softly. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t need it anymore, but laying here is almost overwhelmingly calming for him. 

   “I want to say I miss you, but does that even make sense if you’re still here?” Thomas asks.

   Newt doesn’t answer that one. Instead he turns to Thomas, laying on his side.

   “I can’t lead them. Not without you,” Thomas says, a tear falling. “It’s not fair.”

   “ _I’m sorry_ ,” Newt says.

   “I can’t…” Thomas trails off. 

   Newt puts his hand on Thomas’ chest, right over his heart. He focuses on it, trying again.

   “ _I’m sorry_.”

   Thomas puts his hand on his chest, right next to Newt’s, nodding, his tears not stopping.

   “I’m sorry too.”

   Thomas falls asleep like that a few minutes later. Newt keeps his hand there a little while longer, then takes it away, but tries to continue sending Thomas the feeling that he’s still there. He’s careful not to overuse his energy, just laying there and trying to take in the feeling. The still night, Thomas sleeping by his side, not running from anything. If only he had this while he was alive.

  
  


Newt is amazed when he feels Thomas wake up beside him. The night went by quickly and slowly, some of the time staring at the ceiling and some spent talking to Thomas, letting him know he’s still there. He’d watched the sun rise too, it’d been far too long since he's gotten to do that. He used to slip outside and watch it at their little camp they had made while they looked for Minho. Those days feel like a million years ago now.

   Now Thomas is opening his eyes, groaning and sitting up a bit. He seems out of it; confused and still half asleep. But after a moment he tenses up, looking next to him where Newt lays.

   “Newt? Are you—are you still here?” he asks, seeming panicked.

   Putting his hand on Thomas’, that sits on the bed in front of him, Newt smiles. “ _I’m here, Tommy_.”

   It takes a few moments, but finally Thomas visibly relaxes, closing his eyes. “Okay. Okay… thank you,” he says, his voice groggy sounding but sincere.

   Newt takes his hand away, trying to reserve himself. How long can he push this?

   Thomas runs a hand through his hair and smiles.

   “If Minho knew about this I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it,” he laughs.

   “ _I can’t even imagine what he’d say_ ,” Newt laughs too, imagining the boy’s jokes.

   “I haven’t slept like that in too long,” Thomas says. Immediately after Thomas speaks, there’s a knock at the door. Thomas’ head snaps up, looking at it before raising his voice. “Come in.”

   Fry walks in a moment after, holding a tray of food. He looks weary, staying by the door. 

   “Do you want this, or should I put it on your desk?” he says, looking over at the pile of uneaten food.

   “I’ll take it,” Thomas says. Fry raises his eyebrows, walking over.

   “Really?” he says, giving Thomas the tray. “You seem…”

   “Yeah,” Thomas says simply. “Thanks, Fry.”

   Frypan nods, before walking over to the trays on Thomas’ desk and taking them. Newt watches Thomas watch uncomfortably as Fry piles them up and walks towards the door.

   “Sorry about those,” Thomas says.

   “No worries, man. I’m just glad to see you’re feeling a bit better,” Fry says, opening the door. “Before I go, I’d go see Minho. Soon.”

   Thomas furrows his eyebrows at him. “Alright, I will.”

   Fry gives him a small smile before closing the door, leaving Thomas with his food and the best friend he didn’t see sitting next to him.

   “I wonder what he wants,” Thomas says, starting to eat. Newt tries to think of what it could be, but then realizes it makes no difference if he has an opinion. He couldn’t hear it anyway. 

   For now, seeing Thomas eat is good enough.

   It’s not long before Thomas sets out to look for Minho, Newt in tow. He could get used to following Thomas around like this. Sure, it’s kind of frustrating to not be seen or heard, but at least Thomas feels him. 

   He walks ‘til he gets to the hut he’d been sitting in with everyone else the other day, opening the door reluctantly. When he does, Newt sees Minho and Gally sitting together, both looking up immediately. They seem surprised to see Thomas, almost looking like they’ve been caught.

   “Thomas,” Gally nods, looking between him and Minho. “I’ll, uh…” he trails off before getting up and walking out, passing Thomas and Newt. 

   “Hey,” Minho says. Newt has known Minho as long as he’s known himself, but yet he can’t read his expression. Whatever it is, it’s unnerving.

   Newt turns around and finds himself going to try to close the door behind them, before remembering and looking at Thomas.

   As if he felt it, Thomas walks over and closes the door, Newt moving out of his way. Afterwards, he turns back to Minho and walks toward him, Minho pointing to the seat in front of him.

   “What’s going on, man?” Thomas asks.

   Minho doesn’t answer for a moment, avoiding Thomas’ eyes as he sits down. When he finally talks, it’s almost a mumble.

   “I want to believe you,” he says.

   Thomas’ jaw hardens as he leans forward. “Then believe me.”

   “You know I can’t, Thomas. It’s too… you’re talking about a _ghost_ here,” Minho says.

   “No, we’re talking about _Newt_. I’m telling you, he’s here. He’s here right now,” Thomas says.

   “Like in the room?” Minho asks uneasily.

   “In the room,” Thomas says. “Newt?”

   Newt’s standing in the middle of the two boys on the side of the table, looking at Thomas. Is he expecting an answer?

   “Can you try to touch Minho’s hand? Just for a second,” Thomas says.

   Newt gives Thomas a worried look. He knows he can’t see, but he does it anyway. If he was Minho, he’d think Thomas was losing it too. But he’ll try for him. He’d like if Minho knew he was there too.

   “Put your hand out,” Thomas says to Minho. Minho reluctantly puts his hand on the table, Thomas nodding. “Alright, Newt. Uh, do your thing.”

   Newt shakes his head, leaning forward and putting his hand on Minho’s. There’s a lot riding on this one.

   “I don’t feel anything,” Minho says.

   “Be patient,” Thomas says.

   Newt focuses, trying to feel Minho. For some reason, it feels different. He can’t put his finger on why, but it does.

   “ _Minho_ ,” Newt says, trying to send all his energy to that one spot in the middle of his palm. “ _I’m still here_.”

   Suddenly, Newt feels himself weaken significantly, like the wind is being knocked out of him.

   “ _No, no_ ,” Newt pleas, trying to send whatever he has to Minho. “ _Please, Minho_.”

   Minho’s face is unchanged, and Newt’s frustration only builds as his strength deteriorates. It’s the kind of feeling where you’re trying to remember something and it’s on the tip of your tongue, only with this he’s trying to _feel_ something, and it’s right there but somehow seems impossible to reach.

   “Thomas, it’s—”

   “It’ll work,” Thomas says, stubborn as ever.

   Newt sends his last burst of anger-fueled energy to Minho. It’s everything he has left, and even pressing as hard as he is, it’s not enough. 

   He’s failed.

   “ _Minho_!” Newt tries last time before the image of the two boys in front of him gets hazy, worry and devastation flooding over him.

   The last thing he hears is Thomas calling his name.

  
  


He doesn’t come back the next day, but the day after. When he appears next to the rock, he’s frustrated, remembering the events of the other day. He let down his friends.

   Newt begins to look for Thomas, trying to push the anger down. Why didn’t it work? It’s become so easy to reach Thomas, but with Minho it felt impossible. It’s not fair, none of it is fair.

   Thomas is sitting in his hut again, and the place looks absolutely _trashed_. Newt’s stunned by the sight, turning his attention to Thomas, who’s sitting at his desk chair facing the rest of the room.

   He seems to sense Newt, perking up. Looking around, he drops the necklace from his hand. 

   “Newt? Are you here?” Thomas says. “I almost thought you’d gone after Minho, but I could still feel you were here.”

   “ _I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it_ ,” Newt says, walking in front of Thomas.

   “It’s so hard, Newt,” Thomas says, shaking his head. “I have you but I don’t have you. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

   Newt stops himself from apologizing again, knowing it won’t make a difference. 

   “Wanna know what I thought of?” Thomas asks. “I don’t even have a _picture_ of you. Not a recording, not a photo, nothing. I miss your voice, I miss your smile, Newt, I miss _you_.”

   “ _You have me_ ,” Newt says, upset at Thomas’ words.

   “And wanna know what bothers me the most?” Thomas says. “We didn’t even have a chance.”

   “ _What do you mean_?” Newt asks, kneeling down in front of the boy.

   “We were so busy saving everyone, I didn’t get the chance to…” Thomas trails off. “The other night. You staying with me, we never got that. You never got the chance to get close to people the way you should have. You never got to see what else there is besides fighting for your life every second of every day.”

   Newt feels something welling up inside him with every word that spills out of Thomas. It _hurts_. It hurts so bad he can feel energy draining from him as he takes in the sad truth of it all. 

   “Did anyone ever even tell you they loved you?” Thomas asks, his voice breaking and turning into a whisper.

   Newt shakes his head. He hadn’t even thought of that.

   “ _I_ loved—I _love_ you, Newt. Please, just… know that, okay?” Thomas says, closing his eyes.

   What happens to Newt following Thomas’ words, the _feeling_ and power that washes over him and surges through him, can’t begin to be explained. It’s foreign and familiar all at once and suddenly parts of him feel whole again. He puts a hand on Thomas’ knee and isn’t even shocked when Thomas opens his eyes and looks down at it.

   Then to him.

   “I do love you too, Tommy,” Newt doesn’t rush the words, letting himself hear them clearly, taking them in. He nods, a smile spreading onto his face. “I do.”

   Thomas doesn’t let his shock last long, pushing his chair out of the way and kneeling down in front of Newt.

   “Newt, I miss you so much,” Thomas says, his eyes glistening.

   “I’m here, yeah?” Newt says, nodding. He takes Thomas’ face in his hands, not thinking twice about it. “You’re not a bloody lunatic.”

   Thomas hugs him tightly, Newt wrapping his arms around his best friend back, feeling how shaky Thomas is. It’s all happening too fast, so he tries to take it in. They’re together again.

   When Thomas pulls back, he takes _Newt’s_ face into his hands this time, blinking like he thinks he’ll disappear any moment. After a second he laughs, a tear rolling down his face. 

   “You look—” 

   “Healthy? Normal?” Newt asks.

   “Good,” Thomas nods.

   “My limp is gone, no wounds, cuts, blood, nothing,” Newt says.

   “You’re wearing your clothes from the glade,” Thomas points out. It’s true, it was one of the first things Newt had noticed. He’s got on the same outfit, but it’s all clean, _he’s_ clean. 

   “First clothes I can remember,” Newt says with a laugh.

   “How are you here?” Thomas says after a second, asking the obvious.

   “Your guess is as good as mine,” Newt says. Neither of them can get the smiles off of their faces. 

   “What makes you come back? What makes you appear?” Thomas asks quickly.

   “The necklace,” Newt says. “The one with the note. It has something to do with it.”

   Thomas looks down at it quickly, then back up at Newt. “So whenever you go away I just need to… what, touch the necklace? And you’ll come back?” he asks desperately.

   “I don’t know,” Newt says.

   “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out,” Thomas says, before his face melts into a sadder expression, Newt hating the change. “I’m so sorry.” 

   “ _I’m_ sorry,” Newt says.

   “There’s nothing to apologize for, I’m the one that couldn’t save you,” Thomas says. “I have so much to say.”

   “So do I,” Newt says. An infinite list of things has been forming in his head ever since he started coming here, but in the moment, all he can do is take in the fact that he’s with Thomas again. 

   “I love you, Newt,” Thomas says, the words sounding more like an assurance than a statement.

   “I love you,” Newt says. He hadn’t thought about love while he was alive. Not much. He’d thought about the fact that he’d most likely once loved a family, but not much else. But now, saying the words, he wonders how he hadn’t before.

   It doesn’t matter what kind of love. There’s no time to think about that. But all he knows is that it’s there. 

   “Thank you,” Thomas says. “For everything.”

   “Don’t thank me,” Newt says. “You did it all. Standing by you was the best decision I ever made.” 

   “You always know what to say,” Thomas says with a sad smile. “I can’t do it. Not without you.”

   Thomas has no clue how untrue that first statement is. What do you say to your best friend that you left behind? How do you let him know he’s okay, that _you’re_ okay?

   “You have me,” Newt says, putting a hand over one of Thomas’ and holding it in his, squeezing and loving the feeling. “Promise.”

   “Okay,” Thomas nods. “I have all these things to say to you, but now that you’re in front of me…”

   “I know,” Newt says with a laugh, ignoring how hollow it sounds. “I had all these things to say, and now I can’t think of a single one. You start to go mad after a while of not being seen. Or heard.”

   Thomas doesn’t answer for a moment, squeezing Newt’s hand back. “I can’t believe I have you back.”

   “Don’t get teary on me, Tommy,” Newt says, wanting to keep Thomas happy as much as he can.

   “I just keep seeing your face looking down at me and—” Thomas stops himself. “No. No, no, you’re here.”

   “I am,” Newt says, getting serious. “You’re okay.”

   “And I thought your letter was the last pep talk,” Thomas lets out a small laugh. “I should have known they’d never stop.”

   “It’s your fault for being such a bloody mess all the time,” Newt jokes.

   Thomas laughs, a sound Newt hadn’t gotten to hear much while he was alive. This is what he died for. Thomas deserves the safe haven. He deserves to be happy. 

   “I’m sorry,” Thomas suddenly says, seeming to get nervous.

   “I told you, you have—”

   “It’s not that,” Thomas says. “Well, it _is_ that, but… I’m sorry I never said it while you… I’m sorry I never told you I loved you.”

   “You didn’t have to,” Newt smiles. “I didn’t have to either. Besides, we had more important things to focus on.”

   “But you were always important,” Thomas says. “You never realized that.”

   Newt doesn’t answer, just trying to take in the feeling of being with Thomas a bit more, the fear creeping in about disappearing on him any moment. 

   Thomas brings the hand not holding Newt’s down to his chest, Newt wondering what he’s doing before he realizes. He’s feeling for a heartbeat.

   Thomas’ face drops, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s nothing,” he says. “How could there be nothing?”

   Newt suddenly gets more aware of himself. Nothing feels right. Not really. He’s talking, that’s fine, but everything else is wrong. He’s not breathing, he’s making the motions of it but there’s nothing actually happening. His heart isn’t beating, and that realization freaks him out more than anything.  

   “I don’t know,” Newt says. “Maybe it has something to do with me being a bloody ghost.”

   Thomas goes to speak, but just nods, taking his hand away. Newt can’t get upset. He’s got to focus on Thomas and Thomas only.

   That’s what he did towards the end. Focused on his friends and nothing else. They were all that mattered. They were all that kept him _sane_. 

   “I’m tied to you, I think,” Newt says. Thomas tilts his head in confusion, Newt continuing. “Whenever I’m here, I’m drawn to _you_. You bring me here.”

   “That’s probably why contacting Minho didn’t work,” Thomas says.

   “Sorry about that,” Newt says. He still feels bad that he let Thomas down, and worse about not being able to show Minho he’s there. 

   “Don’t apologize,” Thomas says, quickly dismissing Newt’s words. “Can I ask you something?”

   “‘Course,” Newt says. 

   Thomas seems to hesitate before asking. “Are you… happy?”

   Newt slips away before the words can even register.

  
  


It happens completely unexpectedly, yet without hesitation.

   When he’d shown up the next time, two days had passed. He found Thomas standing in his hut, clutching the necklace to his chest and muttering to himself. Newt could make out “please work” and “come back to me”, but the rest were all in a desperate rush.

   He’d come over to him quickly and wrapped a hand around Thomas’, choosing the one he held the necklace in. All he had to do was remember his words. _I love you, Newt._

   “Tommy,” Newt said, Thomas snapping his head up. 

   Thomas let go of the necklace and Newt could see him searching his face again.

   “Newt…” Thomas trailed off softly, putting a hand on Newt’s shoulder, moving it up to sit on the spot where it met his neck.

   No part of him felt weird at the gesture. He was mostly just happy to be with Thomas, to _really_ be with Thomas. But being so close to him added something Newt couldn’t put his finger on. Whatever it was, it was keeping him there, and he was grateful for it.

   He wants more of that, _needs_ more of that.

   So when the two boys close the distance, neither of them feel like it’s anything but right. 

   It’d be impossible to say who leans in first, because both of them were so quick to respond it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Newt feels Thomas’ hand move around to the back of his neck to pull him closer while he kisses him, Newt opting to cup the side of Thomas’ face with his hand.

   It’s beautiful and wonderful and everything Newt could possibly describe it as, his mouth on Tommy’s and their bodies actually _touching_. He can feel the warmth, feel the _love_ between them grow with each passing second. It feels like a lifetime, starting soft but getting more heated and desperate, his lips moving quickly with Newt's in perfect sync. 

   And suddenly it’s heartbreaking.

   When they pull away, Newt feels a whirlwind of emotions go through him. He doesn’t seem to be alone, Thomas’ expression seeming to mirror what he can imagine his looks like.

   It’s not a happy expression, but not a sad one either. Like they both realized the same things.

   Newt hadn’t thought about kissing anyone, really. No time to. But this was the first time he ever has. He doesn’t know for sure about his life before the glade, but he’s almost positive about this. His first kiss, and he isn’t even bloody alive for it.

   He’s not alive. He’s not even really _there_ , is he? It’s the strangest mix of right and wrong but part of him doesn’t care. He won’t leave Thomas.

   They both seem at a loss for words, just studying each other’s faces. Newt takes the time to look at Thomas. _Really_ look at him.

   The first thing he notices is his messed up hair. Second is his pink puffed up lips. Third are his eyes and nose to match. He’s been crying again, and it’s not hard to see, his eyes still glassy.

   As he looks closer, he notices more. His eyes seem sunken in, with bags around them, darkening his face. He’s lost weight too, and it’s extremely evident.

   Newt loves Thomas, obviously, and he’s always thought he was beautiful. But right now he’s a beautiful wreck, and it hits Newt harder than ever. 

   Is he hurting, or is he helping? Thomas ate the other day while Newt was there, he _must_ be helping, right? Nothing makes sense anymore. All that makes sense is that he can’t let Thomas fall apart.

   “I meant to do that the other day,” Thomas says breathlessly, his eyes still searching Newt’s face, most likely for a reaction. 

   “It was perfect,” Newt says, his voice coming out almost shaky, both of their tones hushed. 

   “Thank you for staying,” Thomas says quietly.

   Newt gives him a small smile, hoping it’s reassuring. “I wouldn’t leave you behind, Tommy.”

   Thomas suddenly laughs nervously, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just—”

   “Me neither,” Newt laughs. “You just kissed a bloody ghost.” 

   Thomas’ eyes darken at that, looking down. It was meant to be a joke, but Newt knows that nothing about it is very funny.

   “Hey,” Newt says, Thomas meeting his eyes. He grabs Thomas’ hand and squeezes it, hoping it’ll help. “I love you, alright? Dead or alive, remember that.” 

   Thomas nods. “I love you too. I really do.”

   “Good that,” Newt says, Thomas smiling at the use of the glader slang.

   “If anyone was going to be calm about all this, it’d be you,” Thomas says, his gaze flashing down to Newt’s lips before back to his eyes, Newt pretending not to notice.

   “Like I told you,” Newt says. “I wasn’t scared; I’m still not scared.”

   That might not be the truth, but Newt would never tell Thomas that. Having the flare, knowing you’re going to turn into a monster and hiding it? He was terrified, lying awake at night thinking about how he would tell them, and more importantly, how he _wouldn’t_ tell them. It was a death sentence, he knew it was. He just had to push long enough to rescue Minho, and he did.

   After Minho was safe, it became… easier, in a way. But in those final moments, thanking Minho, giving Thomas the note, trying to keep it together for him, he was scared. More scared than he’d ever been in the maze or in the scorch. He could feel everything slipping away, his memory, his sanity, his humanity. 

   Of course he was afraid. He was only… seventeen, maybe? But he had to be strong for his friends, keep them safe. They were priority. And it worked. 

   “That’s why I need you here,” Thomas says. “You’re the one that can remain calm and level headed, you’re the one that solves all the problems.” 

   “No,” Newt dismisses his words. “That’s _you_. You’re the leader here, not me. Maybe you needed a bit of guidance sometimes, sure, but you—”

  
  


One week. Thats how long it takes for him to get back, and he’s _angry_. He can understand two days, getting his strength back, but a whole week? Unless Thomas hadn’t tried to contact him, that was just absurd. 

   Newt sees Thomas walking out of a hut, looking even worse than the last time he saw him somehow, and goes to follow him, but something else catches his eye. Minho.

   He’s sitting in the hut Thomas had left, shaking his head, Brenda next to him. Newt decides to listen in for a moment, he’ll catch up with Thomas after.

   “He’s still seeing Newt, he’s _lost_ it, he’s absolutely lost it,” Minho says, his words slightly hurting Newt, but he can’t blame the guy.

   “I’ve never seen him look this…” Brenda trails off.

   “He looks terrible. He barely eats, he doesn’t talk to any of us, and he’s hallucinating,” Minho says angrily. “We’re losing him. We need him, and we’re losing him.” 

   Brenda puts a hand on Minho’s arm, Minho moving his arm away in response. “We won’t lose him. He’s just grieving.” 

   “Doesn’t he realize _I’m_ grieving too? I knew Newt for over three years, does he think I just forgot? Does he think I don’t lie awake every night replaying it all in my head over and over again?” Minho says, his anger slowly melting away. “I lost Newt. I can’t lose Thomas now too.”

   Newt is all but frozen, watching with sadness overcoming him as Minho lets a tear escape his eye, Brenda’s eyes glassy.

   This is all his fault. All of it. 

   Finally, he tears himself away from them, walking out of the hut, his pull to Thomas getting stronger. Thomas needs him. Doesn’t he?

   When he sees Thomas, he wants to cry. He’s not sure if that’s even possible, but if it is, he’d want to now.

   He’s sat in the middle of his floor on his knees, Newt’s necklace and a vile of blue liquid in one hand and Chuck’s figurine he’d made Thomas in the other. He’s shaking, sobs escaping him.

   Newt kneels down in front of him and goes to put a hand on his shoulder, but stops himself.

   “It’s too much,” Thomas says quietly, the words being broken up by a sob. “Please, _please_ come back.” 

   Newt wants to grab Thomas and hug him, tell him he’s okay, that he won’t leave him, that he doesn’t have to do this alone. But he doesn’t do any of those things yet. Instead, he watches.

   “I could have saved you, Newt, I could have. I could have you here with me right now,” Thomas says, his words getting easier to hear as his sobs calm down. “It’s been a week and I still feel you here but I can’t… where did you go? Why haven’t you done anything? You promised, Newt.”

   He promised. 

   Newt puts a hand on the side of Thomas’ face and tries to send him something good, something that’ll help, but all that comes out is his pain. All the sadness he feels for Thomas, for Minho. But it seems to work.

   Thomas opens his eyes, and they go right through Newt.  

   “Newt?” Thomas says. “It’s been a week, why-why can’t I see you?” 

   Newt could probably let Thomas see him. He could do all those things he wants to do. But something tells him not to. 

   He’s sad, he’s tired, and he can’t watch Thomas like this any longer. 

   “Newt?” Thomas asks again.

   Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

  
  


He’s back only a day later, and the saddened feelings in him have only grown. On his way to Thomas’ hut, he overhears Vince talking to Gally.

   “You’re helping out Brenda today,” Vince says.

   “But that was Minho’s—” Gally starts.

   “I know,” Vince says. “But he’s refusing to do anything today.”

   Gally shakes his head, darkness flashing over his face. “Him too?” 

   “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Vince says. 

   Gally takes a deep breath. “I’ll cover him. They’re strong… they’ll be alright.”

   “I hope so,” Vince says.

   Newt walks away before they get the chance to talk more. 

   When he walks in, at first he just looks at the state of the place. It’s small, so it’s easy for it to be messy, but it’s horrible. Things are broken, plans for huts and lists scattered and discarded, more uneaten food on his desk, clothes on the floor. 

   Thomas is lying down in bed, and for a moment, Newt is horrified. He’s not moving, and for a split second, it looks like he’s not breathing either. 

   Apparently his fright is strong, because when he takes a step, Thomas jumps up, his face forming the most haunting smile Newt’s ever seen. At this point, Thomas is more of a ghost than Newt.

   He gets up and walks over to Newt, looking at him for a second before pulling him into a hug, Newt hugging back after a second.

   He’d hugged Thomas a few times before he’d died. He remembers what that felt like. But this, right now, feels like a hollow shell of that. They’re delicate with each other, like if they squeeze too hard the other might break. And the likelihood of either of them breaking feels way too high right now.

   After a long moment, Thomas pulls away. 

   “Why were you gone so long?” Thomas asks.

   “I don’t know,” Newt says. “I can’t control it.” 

   “I thought you’d left,” Thomas says.

   Newt shakes his head. “Tommy…”

   “What?” Thomas asks.

   “You and Minho,” Newt says. “He’s not doing well.”

   “He refuses to listen to me,” Thomas says. “He does nothing but get angry at me.”

   “He’s not angry, he’s worried,” Newt says, hating the angered tone in Thomas’ voice.

   “Worried for nothing,” Thomas says.

   “Is he?” Newt asks, Thomas looking hurt at his words. “He’s afraid of—”

   “Afraid of what?” Thomas spits. “Afraid I’m insane? You know I’m not.”

   “Afraid of losing you,” Newt says.

   Thomas stares at Newt for a moment. “Why would he lose me?”

   Newt reaches up and runs his fingertips across the sunken in parts of Thomas’ face, Thomas’ eyes fluttering shut. He moves down then to his collarbone, feeling how much it sticks out, then down his arm to his hand, holding it in his own.

   “You’re not fine,” Newt says softly. “You both lost me. He needs you now.”

   Thomas puts the hand Newt’s not holding on Newt’s arm, squeezing it. “I didn’t lose you. I did, but I didn’t. You’re here. I don’t have to do this without you, you said. I still need you, I always will.”

   Suddenly, Newt recognizes the mess he’s made more than ever.

   “You don’t know that,” Newt says.

   “I love you,” Thomas says. “Don’t make me do this without you.”

   Those words hurt worse than the knife.

   “Please talk to Minho,” Newt says. “For me, talk to Minho.” 

   Thomas looks at him for a moment, but finally answers. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

   “Thank you,” Newt says.

   Thomas nods.

   He probably shouldn’t say it, but he can’t help himself. “I love you,” Newt says, running his thumb over Thomas’ hand.

   He doesn’t get a chance to hear Thomas’ response.

  
  


When he comes back, it’s the next night, and Newt walks into Thomas’ hut with Minho. Thomas is standing there, looking at Minho as he enters the room, both of them seeming hesitant. 

   “Hey,” Thomas says.

   “Hey,” Minho answers reluctantly. “Look, if you asked me to come here just to yell at me over—”

   “No,” Thomas cuts him off. “Nothing like that.”

   Minho nods. “Then what is it?”

   The two boys stand silently for a minute before Thomas replies. 

   “I miss you, Minho,” Thomas says.

   Minho sighs, his frustration evident. “You miss _me_? Thomas, I…”

   “I know,” Thomas says, “and I’m sorry.”

   “You know?” Minho says.

   “I’ve been a jerk for the past few weeks,” Thomas says. “You’re hurting too, and I never stopped to think about that.”

   Minho looks at a loss for words, something rare for him.

   “He was my best friend too,” Minho says.

   “I know.”

   “You won’t even let me help you.”

   “I know.”

   “All we have is each other. You’re a pretty selfish shank for making me watch you waste away like this.” 

   “I know.” 

   Minho doesn’t respond. Instead both of them walk forward and wrap their arms around each other tightly, Newt watching from the corner, a sad smile on his face.

   He doesn’t try to contact Thomas that day.

  
  


When he gets back to the safe haven two days later, he turns to look at his name on the rock again. Just as permanent as the others. Alby, Chuck, Winston, Ben, Teresa, Clint, Zart, Jeff, all his friends that didn’t make it.

   From the glade, all that remains is Thomas, Minho, Gally and Frypan. Newt believes in them. Especially if they have each other.

   The anger and sadness that’d been building up from his past few times here is gone, replaced with a sense of calm. The sky is a beautiful blue, the sun shining bright. It hits the monolith at such an angle that it seems to shine, making Newt smile. 

   He takes his time walking to the hut he knows Thomas is in. Everyone is busy working, talking, going about their days. It’s peaceful. It’s their home.

   Thomas, Minho, Gally, Frypan and Brenda are eating lunch, sitting around the table. Newt observes them for a few minutes, trying to look at Thomas.

   He’s actually eating his food a little, Newt glad to see it. He’s not laughing loudly and talking like the rest of them, he’s quiet, but there’s a small smile on his face. It’s enough to let Newt know he’s doing the right thing.

   “This shuckface throws me the piece of wood, giving me no warning, and it slams into the side of my head,” Minho says, everyone laughing. 

   “That was _not_ my fault,” Gally laughs. “You turned after I threw it.” 

   “Were you aiming for my head?” Minho says, his trademark smirk on his face.

   “Maybe I was,” Gally says. “If we’re telling embarrassing stories, I’ve got one of Fry.”

   “I think we all have one of Fry,” Brenda says.

   “Hey!” Frypan laughs. “I’ve got dirt on _all_ of you.”

   “As good as the sand incident?” Gally asks. 

   “Don’t you _dare_ man,” Fry says.

   Newt finally walks over, putting a hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

   “ _Can we talk, Tommy_?” 

   Thomas jumps up, everyone else looking at him. 

   “Excuse me a moment,” Thomas says.

   “You good?” Brenda asks.

   Minho looks at Thomas and Thomas nods. “I’m fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”

   Minho and Brenda share a quick look but they both seem to let it go quick, letting Thomas go.

   Thomas walks out, not stopping ’til he gets to a small secluded area behind one of the huts. “Newt?” he asks. “Are you here?”

   Newt puts a hand on Thomas shoulder and concentrates. He’s not tired today, so it doesn’t take him long. 

   “Hey, Tommy,” Newt says, giving him a smile. “Let’s talk.”

   “About what?” Thomas asks. “You’re making me nervous.”

   “Don’t be,” Newt says. Thomas nods, so he continues, putting his hand back down to his side. “I was scared back in the maze, when I climbed that wall. When Minho found me I was in so much pain, I’ve never felt worse. But it gave me a second chance. When you came up in that box, I felt like I got something back. I got my _fight_ back.”

   “Newt…” Thomas trails off.

   “When I died, I was mostly afraid of hurting you. So you being alive, Minho being alive, all _this_? That’s what I died for. It was worth it,” Newt says. “I’m happy. I’m happy seeing that you guys made it.”

   “You should be here too,” Thomas says. “You are.”

   “Maybe I should,” Newt smiles. “But I’m okay with it. I’ve made my peace.”

   “I need you,” Thomas interjects.

   “No,” Newt says. “You might want me here, but you don’t need me.”

   “Yes I do, Newt. I can’t do this without you. Whenever you’re not here I only get worse,” Thomas says. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I’m only okay with you.”

   “But you’re not, are you?” Newt says. “I know you don’t realize it, but my being here has hurt more than it’s helped.” 

   “That’s not true,” Thomas shakes his head. There are tears glistening in his eyes. He can tell what this is.

   “It’s my fault,” Newt says. “I’m here for a reason.”

   “Because I _need_ you,” Thomas says.

   “No, Tommy. I’m here to tell you that you _don’t_ ,” Newt says. “Every time I just tell you that you don’t have to do it alone, and in a way I was right. You have _them_.” Newt gestures back to the hut. 

   “But…” Thomas starts.

   “You can lead them,” Newt says. “Take the time you need, but you can do it. They’ll follow you just like I have. They trust you.”

   “Look at me, Newt,” Thomas says. “I can’t even keep _myself_ together.”

   “You’ve been through a lot, we all have,” Newt says. “They understand. So you, Minho, Fry, Gally, Brenda, Aris, Sonya, Harriet, Vince, Jorge—you’re leading together. That doesn’t seem so scary, does it?”

   “Without you?” Thomas says.

   “I’ll never _really_ be gone,” Newt says. “Talk to me any time you’d like. I’ll be listening.”

   “Why can’t you stay?” Thomas asks. “Why can’t we keep doing this?”

   Newt doesn’t have any answers Thomas would like, so he just keeps the soft smile on his face, shaking his head. “When I first got here, you wouldn’t stop working.”

   “I needed a distraction,” Thomas says.

   “You can relax now,” Newt says. “You’ve escaped, you did it. You’re _safe_ now. Don’t overwork yourself so much. And stop being hard on yourself, too. I wouldn’t change a thing, remember? So spend time with the others, talk at the bonfires, make this a home for yourself. You deserve that.”

   “But you deserved to be here,” Thomas says quietly, the words coming out as more of a plea.

   “I know,” Newt says. “And I’ve seen it. It’s beautiful. It makes me realize that me and everyone else died for something good. But I’m getting tired, Tommy, and I’d like to see what else there is.”

   “What if there’s nothing?” Thomas asks, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

   Newt reaches up and wipes it away with his thumb. “I’m willing to take that chance. But if me being here right now proves anything, I think there’s something out there.”

   “I’m not ready,” Thomas says.

   “You will be,” Newt says. “Maybe this isn’t goodbye. But I don’t want to see this face of yours for a long time, you hear me? Take care of yourself.” 

   “I can’t…” Thomas trails off. “I’ll never stop missing you.”

   “I’m not asking you to,” Newt says. “But there’s more out there for you. It’s been difficult, I know, but you have Minho for that. I’ll miss you too, you know that?”

   “Then why would you leave?” Thomas asks.

   Newt laughs. “Like I told you, it’s time.”

   “Will I still feel you here?” Thomas asks. 

   “I don’t know,” Newt says truthfully. “Maybe. I’ll never stop watching over you lot, alright? _That_ I promise.”

   Thomas shakes his head. “So what now? I just say bye and let you leave?”

   “Now,” Newt says, taking Thomas’ hand in his. “You start your new life.” 

   Thomas goes to speak, undoubtedly another objection, but stops himself before responding.

   “Thank you,” he says through his tears. “Thank you for everything.”

   “Thank _you_ ,” Newt says. “You gave me a reason to keep going.”

   “You give me one, too,” Thomas says.

   “I hope so,” Newt says.

   Thomas leans forward and hugs Newt, Newt hugging back with everything in him. He’ll miss this more than he’d care to admit.

   “I love you,” Thomas says, pulling away.

   “I love you too, Tommy,” Newt says. “You’ll _never_ be alone.”

   Newt probably shouldn’t do this, but he reaches up and kisses Thomas’ forehead, before looking into his eyes.

   “I’m happy. I’m not scared,” Newt says. “I’m ready, and so are you.”

   Thomas nods, seemingly trying to take Newt’s face in.

   “‘Til we meet again, Newt,” Thomas says, wiping away a tear.

   “‘Til we meet again, Tommy,” Newt says, reaching down and taking both of Thomas’ hands in his and squeezing them as Thomas closes his eyes. 

   When he lets go, Newt looks up at the sun. It looks to be getting brighter by the second.

   He looks back at Thomas and he opens his eyes, his expression changing. Newt feels him looking through him, then wiping his eyes, still crying. But it feels different now. He’ll be okay.

   Newt turns back to the sun and decides to follow it, hating to walk away from Thomas but knowing it makes no difference. He's gone. As he walks back through the safe haven, he looks around. They’ll all be okay. They'll build a beautiful home for themselves and start over. They're the future. 

   Once he’s close enough, he realizes where he’s going. The rock. 

   The closer he gets, the stronger the light gets, and nobody else seems to see it but him. 

   When he gets to the rock, he turns around one last time. He can see Tommy walking back into the hut with his friends, making him smile. He’s already following Newt’s advice.

   Newt turns to the rock and puts his hand over his name again, and the whole thing lights up under his touch.

   Suddenly, there is no rock. No safe haven, either. Just light. Him and light.

    He closes his eyes from the brightness, and when he opens them, he’s in a place that’s both familiar and unfamiliar. It’s like glade, but with no walls, seemingly endless. But that’s not what he notices first.

   What he notices first are the people. Everyone they had lost, Alby, Chuck and Teresa standing closest, but they're all there. They look happy and sad to see him, but Newt is nothing but happy. 

   Then, there’s a new feeling that washes over him. _Remembrance_. 

   Newt turns, the smile on his face growing when he sees the pair.

   “Mum? Dad?”

 

   


End file.
